Maybe Now
by YourCrookedHeart
Summary: Songfic, Drops of Jupiter by Train. Pudge's journey After. T because I'm cautious and because it's kinda depressing. SPOILERS!


Pudge Halter sits in his room and waits. He waits for the door to open, the voice to flood in, the knowledge that everything will be all right.

He thinks about what she's like at this point. Really, she can be whatever he imagines her as. After all, she exists solely in his mind now. But he knows that the only thing he really wants her to be is the only thing she can't be…alive.

Maybe this is the only way she can be level with everyone else. In life, she was so out there, so above and beyond. Maybe in death Alaska can be on the same plane as everyone else. This is his consolation. Maybe death has brought her down to his level. In death, she has dropped into the universe of everyone else.

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere_

_With drops of Jupiter in her hair_

_She acts like summer and walks like rain_

_Reminds me that there's time to change._

Maybe, he thinks, she is more alive in death than she was in life. She has been gone for days now, and still he hears her voice whirling around his head, feels her breath stolen from his lips.

Yes, that is fitting. Maybe she has come back to him, and she will be here to listen forever. She is talking too, and he knows because he hears her.

"knock knock so you went for a swim night falls fast today is in the past aint that just delightful im just scared of ghosts wake up im sleeping poor is poor scared isnt a good excuse you really need a new couch thats the game i am a deeply unhappy person i still fuck up TO BE CONTINUED"

_Since the return from her stay on the moon_

_She listens like spring and she talks like June._

But this doesn't really help. Maybe one day, he will stop hearing her voice:

"When you're walking at night, do you ever get creeped out and even though it's silly and embarrassing you just want to run home?"

_Tell me, did you sail across the sun?_

_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded_

_And that heaven is overrated?_

Is she missing the dark, wherever she is? Is she somewhere where its always light, where she never has to feel silly or embarrassed or scared?

_Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?_

_One without a permanent scar?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

***

Staring at her too-plain coffin, the simple piece of wood that holds the empty shell of a not-Alaska, he thinks maybe he will be okay. Knowing that what used to be her is here, right in front of him, reminds him she is real. Now she exists in the universe of everyone else.

And in the universe of everyone else, she can do anything. Because Alaska is too good for everyone else. She can try whatever she likes. Maybe, though, he's a little upset about this. Because if she's too good for everything, she's too good for him, too.

_Now that she's back from that soul vacation_

_Tracing her way through the constellation,_

_She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo_

_Reminds me that there's room to grow._

He wants to be happy. He wants to think that now she is going to stop feeling scared and stupid. But he is too selfish for that. Because what if in death she sees how perfect she is compared to everyone else? What if she realizes how he never really could reach his Great Perhaps? Maybe she will look down and see how he was too frightened, how all of his _maybe_s led to a life where he could never pull his head out of the clouds.

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere_

_I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain old Jane_

_Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land._

But where is it? He should feel happy or sad or cautious or brave or hurt or strong, but all he can feel is _her_.

_Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?_

_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day_

_And head back to the Milky Way?_

So he allows himself to wonder: what if this turned out wrong? What if she was looking in none of the right places? What if she's sorry? Maybe, just maybe, she might have missed him in the instants contained in that instant death.

_And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?_

_Was it everything you wanted to find?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?_

***

Piecing together her life and death, he realizes what he couldn't have realized before. She loved him. Maybe not the way that was right, or the way he wanted her to, but she did. Now, the feeling of _her_ starts to fade, and the love sinks in. And it hurts.

Because what is this? It is a labyrinth of not-knowing. A thousand images flicker across his mind -- Alaska hating life, Alaska too afraid, Alaska eating in the cafeteria with Takumi and the Colonel, himself knowing she's wrong but wanting her to be right.

And then more of them -- dancing around her hurricane of movement, staying up with her just to talk, drinking gross coffee with her after pranking -- the images of a romance that only existed in his head, and maybe hers too, but never in real life. Maybe just a crooked romance.

_Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken_

_Your best friend always sticking up for you, even when I know you're wrong_

_Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance, _

_Five-hour phone Conversation_

_The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me_

***

And he had just started to forgive, to claw himself out of the labyrinth, when he had his _Eureka!_ moment. Alaska was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.

And then, her voice again:

"When you're walking at night, do you ever get creeped out and even though it's silly and embarrassing you just want to run home?"

_Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?_

_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day_

_And head back toward the Milky Way?_

Run run run run run.

_Tell me, did you sail across the sun?_

_Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded_

_And that heaven is overrated?_

And maybe she is talking to him, or maybe he is talking to her. But it doesn't matter. Now, in the warmth of enlightenment, they both run run run run run.

_Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star?_

_One without a permanent scar?_

_And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself?_

So that is the Great Perhaps. That and everything else. Sitting and hoping and waiting and going and falling and loving and losing and hating and forgiving.

_And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_

He hopes that she misses him. But not enough to hurt. He hopes that she can be content in her aloneness, at least for now.

_And did you fall from a shooting star?_

_Fall from a shooting star?_

He wonders if she even _is_ alone. For a moment, the thought frightens him. But he realizes that he will be with her soon. She doesn't have to wait. And maybe it will take a long time, but when you live in forever, a long time is just an instant.

_Are you lonely looking for yourself out there?_

***

So she was not a miracle or an adventure or a fine and precious thing. But she wasn't just a girl, either. Because Pudge loved her, deeply -- too deeply -- and she knew it. At some point, he would forget the finer points of what went on in those invaluable 272 days of finding her. At some point, he would know a life that didn't revolve around Alaska.

But he had all of it for now. His too-fierce teenaged love held everything together. He wondered which was worse -- one day falling in love with someone else, realizing that maybe all of his holding-too-tight never-letting-go love for Alaska was just a figment of his imagination; or never falling for anyone else, spending his days chasing after that one little bit of holding-too-tight never-letting-go feeling.

It didn't matter now. For now, he could still taste her boozy breath. For now, he was still an indestructible teenager the adults roll their eyes at.

Maybe her last words didn't matter. Maybe the not knowing was okay. Maybe the _why? _was just her little way of saying goodbye, her way of knowing that they would wonder about her sometimes. Maybe her end was his beginning.

Maybe now Pudge Halter had his chance to love Alaska Young, his crooked neighbor, with all his crooked heart.


End file.
